


Mermen and Fruity Drinks

by likeafox



Series: The In-Laws [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 02:08:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9299417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeafox/pseuds/likeafox
Summary: As Harry debated the merits of pink beach towels with blue seashells or purple with rainbow polka dots, he thought he sensed a disturbing trend starting. It wasn’t even the fact that he didn’t seem to own any towels that wouldn’t make him look like a poorly outfitted flamenco dancer. It was how, these days, he seemed to be spending a lot of time with Draco Malfoy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2007 as birthday fic for lj user bribitribbit. Again, I am extremely prompt about moving all of these from LJ to Ao3....

As Harry debated the merits of pink beach towels with blue seashells or purple with rainbow polka dots, he thought he sensed a disturbing trend starting. It wasn’t even the fact that he didn’t seem to own any towels that wouldn’t make him look like a poorly outfitted flamenco dancer. (Though he made a mental note to look into just why that was.) Rather, he seemed to be spending a lot of time with Draco Malfoy.

As he finally decided that the purple towel looked less like a unicorn had been sick on it, Harry thought that, had he described his current situation to a fourteen-year-old version of himself, he would never have believed it. He also might have punched the adult version of himself in the nose, but he had been a bit of a prat when he was fourteen.

Then again, he was fighting against punching himself in the nose anyway, because as much as he knew Draco Malfoy was not quite as horrible as he had been when Harry was a prattish fourteen year old, that didn’t mean Harry was entirely accepting of a trip to the beach with him. And anyway, weren’t Malfoys albino or something. Mightn’t Malfoy get burnt to a bright red, ferrity crisp?

With that happy thought, Harry finished packing away the purple towels just in time to avoid Ginny yelling at him once again to get his arse moving, they were going to be late.

When Draco gave Harry a smirk and a raised eyebrow as he spread one of the polka dotted monstrosities on the sand, Harry thought lovingly of fists and faces.

“Don’t you dare laugh, Malfoy. At least I won’t be bright pink and peeling at the end of the day,” Harry grumbled.

“It’s called SPF, Potter, and believe it or not even the muggles have figured out some of it’s lovely benefits,” Draco said back, before setting himself delicately on the towel Harry had just set down.

“That wasn’t… that was for…” but Draco raised an eyebrow and dragged a finger over a particularly pink polka dot, so Harry gave up and threw another towel haphazardly down, before digging around in a nearby cooler for something alcoholic enough to make him forget present company. His hand lingered for a moment over the side of the cooler filled with beer, but after another look at Malfoy's beatific smile, stretched out on _his_ towel beside him, harry grabbed the bottle of fluorescent green margarita Ginny had been crowing about earlier in the day. He'd seen what proof that rum was, after all. Maybe between the alcohol, the lovely weather, and a nice nap the day could be salvaged after all. 

 

\---

 

Harry woke up again to the feel of sun in his eyes and something rough and heavy on his chest. When he tried to sit up, but failed miserably, he realized that he was buried under a sizable pile of sand. A few moments later, to the sound of Draco trying to sit up next to him, Harry realized what shape that sand was in.

“Potter, what the hell did you do this time?”

“Oh god, you’re a mermaid too, Malfoy.”

Draco cocked his head at the sand piled on his legs that had been crafted, lovingly, one can be sure, into the shape of a large fin.

"Merman, Potter. Merman."

"Take a look at yourself, Malfoy."

Draco looked down at his chest and noticed the large mounds of sand for the first time. "Oh. Well, at least mine are bigger than yours."

In the distance, Ginny fell to the sand, laughing her arse off. So, Harry realized, was has youngest son. Who was also carrying a highly suspicious purple plastic bucket and trowel. 

Harry scowled. "My own son. I can't believe you'd betray me like this."

"Hey dad, nice rack."

Harry turned his head to see James striding towards them, Teddy Lupin a few meters behind smiling wryly. "James. Son. I've always said you were my favorite child, haven't I? Can you give your dad a hand here?"

James eyed Harry analytically. "Yeah, you need some help." 

James walked up, lifted up one of Draco's hands, and set it carefully on one of Harry's breasts.

"I knew something was missing," Scorpius said. There was a choked guffaw in the distance, and Harry was pretty sure Ginny had died.

"Our children have turned on us, Potter," Draco said, annoyed. "Not that I don't like feeling up a good looking woman, but as you are neither, I think I'll deal with this." Draco turned towards where his son stood smirking next to a green haired Teddy Lupin. "Scorpius?"

"Yes father? You know, you do look good in fins."

"Scorpius, I am going to write you out of the will if you don't let me up right this instant.

Teddy, James, and Al were still mid-guffaw by the time Scorpius had his father out of the sand.

 

Later, after Harry had tossed all three of his boys (Teddy included) face first into the ocean, after Draco had used a wordless trip jinx to send Scorpius headlong into a sand dune, and after Draco and Harry had subsequently escaped the wrath of Ferdinand the albino peacock-owl, everyone headed off towards the boardwalk for ice creams. Only Harry and Draco stayed back to sit side by side on the beach, watching the sun sink slowly over the ocean.

"I've got sand in places it should be illegal for sand to be," Draco said, more as though stating a fact than expressing annoyance.

"You know Malfoy," Harry said, "you're far more agreeable when you're sloshed."

"Wishing you'd known that earlier, are you? Could have kept me sotted at school and saved yourself and arse kicking or two?"

"Where would I have gotten enough alcohol to keep you happy at school, Malfoy?" Harry asked as he dug his toes into the wet sand.

"Pansy always managed to sneak in a bottle or two whenever I needed a pick-me-up. Don't tell me you Gryffindors never got properly drunk at school?"

"Seamus and Dean probably did," Harry said thoughtfully, "but I guess I never had the time. A bit too busy with that seriously evil wizard out to get me thing."

Draco snorted. "You could have found the time, Potter. Never let evil overlords infringe on cocktail hour, my mother always said. Or something along those lines; I'm paraphrasing a bit here." Draco kicked a chunk of driftwood towards Harry's feet. "Clearly in your schooldays you were just too awkward to have a bit of fun."

"Tosser," Harry said and flicked sand in Draco's direction, then went back to watching the horizon. He thought vaguely that if he were back in his school days now, before everything got complicated and so, so much bigger than insults only twelve year olds could find clever, they'd probably be to fists at this point. Harry dug his feet deeper into the sand.

"You don't seem to find me so boring now,” Harry said. “You always seem to be around these days.”

“Someone has to make sure that damn bird of my son’s doesn’t take anyone’s eyes out, and I’m the one who’d be paying the legal fees if it did” Draco said and took a long sip of his drink. “And somehow, and I still find this fact shocks me to my very core, despite being an arrogant, egotistical Gryffindor, you managed to turn out a halfway decent son.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Thanks Malfoy, it means so much to me. You managed to turn out a pretty good kid too, despite being a spoiled, alcoholic ferret. Christ, it’s been a year hasn’t it? I guess that means they’re serious about this thing.”

Draco grunted noncommittally, then sloshed his near empty drink glass about. “Damn, I guess it’s time for another glass. Would you like some, Potter?”

Harry looked at the bright, unnaturally green beverage Draco held. "No thanks, I'd prefer something a bit manlier, all things considered."

Draco snorted. "Well damn, Potter. It appears I'm all out of prison hooch." But he tossed Harry a bottle of beer from the nearby cooler before refiling his own glass.

"To our kids turning out all right, despite our best efforts to ruin them," Harry said, holding his drink up.

"To your kid turning out well despite his sorry excuse for a father. Little Scorpius was never in any danger."

Harry just shook his head, took a swig, then watched as Draco sucked happily at his purple bendy straw. They sat there and sipped until their respective relatives came to collect them some time later.


End file.
